Fall
by BrokenWingsDontFly
Summary: /Maybe it's the panic messing with his head, but Derrick swear she's starting to look familiar. "Do I know you?" he asks/ Two people stuck in an elevator. One chance to fix so many mistakes.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimed_

* * *

_"Because sometimes there's more to people than what meets the eye"_

There are two people in an elevator.  
She looks away from him.  
She knows his face.  
He doesn't look at her.  
He doesn't know her name.

She has blond hair and blue eyes.  
She's **pretty.**

Like a cheerleader.  
Like a California girl.  
Like a volleyball player.

But she's not.  
She's the kind of girl who **screams** when she's alone.  
The kind of girl who breaks the mirror when she sees her reflection.  
The kind of girl who lights matches and then watches as they **burn**.

He has dirty blond hair and brown eyes.  
He's **hot**.  
And he **knows** it.  
Loves **it.**  
**Abuses** it.

He's a player.  
He's the kind of guy who leads girls on to push them off a **cliff**.  
The kind of guy who doesn't have a heart because someone **cut** it out of him years ago.  
The kind of guy who can **save** her.

They're so similar and so different.  
He doesn't care about anyone.  
She doesn't have anyone left to care about.  
She lost her hope somewhere.  
His was stolen from him.

They can't go forward. They can't go back. They're stuck in limbo, a terrible place in the middle, where nothing is ever fixed.

Not everyone believes in destiny. Not everyone believes in fate. But that doesn't mean it isn't out there, working its magic, knitting hearts back together, saving souls. There are miracles, somewhere out there, for those who need it. Those who can't be saved by medication or liquor or love. Miracles that don't seem like miracles, but are nonetheless.

Miracles like an elevator breaking down, just to give two people a little more time to save themselves.

* * *

The elevator dings and it gives a heart-wrenching shudder before jerking to a stop, the antique lights above them flickering.

Her stomach drops. He swears. The doors don't open. They haven't reached a floor yet.

"What the fuck is happening?" Derrick Harrington yells, striding over to the control panel and furiously pushing the alarm button over and over and over again. He blurts out a string of curse words in a senseless sentence. In frustration, he kicks the door. The elevator shudders again. Derrick's face was wipes clean of anger and more of disbelief. Then, like in a scary nightmare, the elevator creaks and drops. Not the entire way, just a little bit. Enough for him to want to be sick. He's horrified.

_This is it, _Claire Lyons thinks numbly, elation and fear running through her. _I'm going to die. _Finally. The word's the ghost of a thought, less than a breath, a accepting feeling in her heart and a bracing feeling in her chest. _Please don't let it hurt. _She sinks to the ground and curls up in a ball, counting each breath. The higher the number got, the more she starts to panic. She wants it to end. Needs it to end.

Derrick's panicking now. He runs a hair through his unruly-on-purpose hair, thinking. He runs against the doors, hard, trying to shove the doors open. The elevator gives another heart-wrenching drop. Claire exults quietly. He backs away, fast. If he hits the elevator again, they might go all the way to hell. He spares a glance at the pathetic heap of a girl in the corner.

"Hey!"

She acknowledges someone is talking her, but it takes a while. She's not used to people noticing her. The anger in his tone is normal though. Derrick Harrington's always angry. She looks up a him through an arm. _Me? _She wonders. _What the hell would he want with me? _Maybe he wants to blame her. Fine. Or maybe he wants to punch something. Whatever. Maybe he, like her, came to the realization that they were going to die. Maybe he doesn't want to be alone. Or, more likely, he just wants one last fuck. Well, no thank you. Despite what everyone said, she's still a virgin at twenty-two and, out of spite, she's going to stay that way.

"What, do you not speak?" He's starting to get annoyed now. "You got better things to do than talk to me?"

She doesn't deign it to answer. The answer is clear. She doesn't. Is he stupid? People like Derrick can destroy a girl with a sentence and they never even know it. Or maybe they do, but they're never put to blame. She'd had to deal with men like Derrick and she was done with it.

"Fuck off," she spits at him, breaking her vow of silence.

Derrick's eyes bulge out of disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"I told you to go fuck off," she says calmly and examines the floor of the elevator.

"Have you fucking lost your mind?" Derrick asks. "We're stuck in a freaking steel prison and you know, you might wanna think of a way or two to get some help instead of shout expletives at me!"

A detached smile forms on her face. Steel prison. True, but soon she's going to be free. Her eyes flick up to Derrick's, glinting. Jaded. Everything about her was.

"Insane," Derrick grumbles, pushing his hands through his hair and pacing. Claire lifts her eyes to the lights above the elevator. How much longer until it finally fell?

Her insides start to feel cold. God, how she wants to die, to fall away. To be nothing more than a name on a tombstone in the fullest graveyard there is, someplace no one will ever be able to find her. She wraps her jacket closer to her. _Please let it fall. _

Derrick squints at the girl in the corner. Maybe it's the panic messing with his brain, but he swears she looks familiar. More so by the second. "Do I know you?" he asks, trying for lightness in his voice. He doesn't want her to worry that something might happen. He wants her to know that he was it under control. Derrick was always in control.

"Do you have to ask?" Claire laughs dryly. _I'm so invisible. _It's strange, she reflects. She wants to disappear but she doesn't want to be forgotten. "Ninth grade biology," is all she says.

His face stays blank. Of course. It wasn't as important for him as it was for her. Figures. "We were lab partners," she clarifies. He cocks his head to the side and thinks hard.

"Claire," she says bitterly. "Claire Lyons." She hadn't used that name for a while. She'd gone by her middle name, Stacey. But why lie when it was all over? Despite everything, Claire doesn't want to fade away. She wants them to remember, she wants them to feel guilty, she wants them to look at the mirror and feel bile rising in their throat. She wants them to take the blame for what they did to her. They destroyed a life and she's not letting them get away with it.

"Right." Derrick's still thinking, but he struggles to arrange his face as if he remembers. Time passes.

Tick-tock-tick-tock.

Claire grips the cold floor and looks away, at the wall. Why can't it just be over? Why can't this one last thing be easy? Why can't it just _fall?_

* * *

**Hey!**

**Sorry for the long break. I'm taking 5 from _Lips of an Angel_, just so I can rethink were I want the story to go. In the meanwhile, just shooting this out there. Multi-chap, but probs just 4 or 5. More of an extended one-shot. Either way...reviews, I'd love 'em, being favorited makes me blush and feel awesome for a day too, so yeah. If you like it, have fun(: **

**-Bree**


	2. Yellow

**Yellow**

"and it was all yellow"

-coldplay, _yellow_

* * *

-eleven years old-

* * *

The doorbell rang. Claire Lyons rolled her eyes as her brother Todd yelped and jumped off the couch.

"Mom, Mom, they're here!" he yelled, inexplicably excited, running to the kitchen to find Judi. _Pathetic_. Claire stretched out her long legs—she'd gotten a growth spurt in the summer—and inspected her nails, trying to act like she didn't care. Lately, she'd be experimenting with being Goth and therefore, her chewed down nails were painted a startlingly dark black.

"I'm coming, honey." Judi sounded equally as excited as Todd. Claire wanted to throw herself out the newly installed bay windows behind her. With a huff, she leaned back into the couch.

Judi came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, with Todd dancing with glee behind her. Both of them were too thrilled to notice her. Whatever. Claire focused on her nails, concentrating on not concentrating.

Judi or Todd opened the door and all the usual exchanges went on, the talking and shared enthusiasm and all the other sickening pleasantries. Claire reached for the remote and pointedly turned the volume up on the _Suite Life of Zack and Cody_. Maybe that would lure Todd back, at least.

It attracted Judi's attention. "Clairebear," she called brightly from the doorway, that fake sort of happy that let her know she was really annoyed. "Why don't you turn the television off and come say hello?"

Claire groaned, loud enough to be heard over the TV before heaving herself off the couch. She made her way sluggishly to her mom, her shoulders hunched over and her face sulking.

They were standing there, just an inch over the threshold. Claire narrowed her bright blue eyes. It was just like in her nightmares—they were perfect. He was tall and fit, not _handsome_, per se, but had a very likable and attractive air about him. Later, Claire would learn what the word photogenic meant.

His shirt was tucked in and pressed and his skin tanned evenly, making his teeth stand out even more. Claire ran her tongue absent-mindedly over her braces, her mouth tightly shut.

"Claire," her mom sing-songed, yanking Claire closer with her overall straps. Claire stumbled next to her and then tugged herself away, smoothing her clothes down self-consciously, glaring at her mother. Oh, how she longed for the day she'd be able to buy her own clothes…

"Claire, are you going to say hi?" Now Judi was annoyed.

_Go to hell, _Claire wanted to say. She'd just learned that phrase from Harris Fisher, the terrifying boy who took the same bus as her. He'd shouted it at his brother Cam for taking something-or-the-other. Claire'd never sworn before.

"Hi," mumbled Claire. She was too chicken to do anything that might get her in trouble with her parents. She didn't even just take ice cream or sweets out of the kitchen, like Todd did, without making sure her mom was okay with it.

"Hi, Claire." Even his voice was nice. Claire scowled. She hated it when older people looked at her like that, like they understood her. "You look around my daughter's age." As if Judi hadn't told him that. "Do you want to meet her?" _No. _

Claire turned away. She couldn't bear to look at her and all her straight, perfect feature. The stupid girl practically _glowed_. Claire felt dark and ugly and yucky inside. A storm rumbled above her head. She felt mad.

"Claire, say hi." Judi sighed exasperatedly. "She's not usually like this," she explained hurriedly to the man, no doubt wanting to still look like the ideal mother. "Claire's very shy."

"Same with mine." Liar. Girls like that weren't shy. "I'm guessing it has something to do with the parents being around," he joked and Judi laughed, her voice strangely high.

"Why don't you come in? Todd's been very excited to show you something." Judi gave the man a certain look and on cue, his face light up.

"What is it, buddy?" he asked. Todd positively peed in his pants from joy. Why he adored them so much, Claire would never understand.

"Come and see!" Todd practically shouted and raced into his room, no doubt to put on his new Little Leagues uniform. He hadn't been into sports, but since _he _was a fanatic, now Todd was too. Ever since he'd joined, Todd had been all but prancing around in his stupid white pants and green jersey. On school days, once his homework was done, he was almost always outside, practicing.

The man smiled genuinely and followed Todd, his arm looping around Judi's waist. Claire fumed. Her mom leaned against him. He said something, motioning with his free hand. Her mother's laughter floated down the hall and haunted her.

She turned away abruptly, forgetting the girl in front of her. Their eyes locked and Claire tried to find some other place to look, but it was harder to ignore someone when they knew you knew they were there.

Claire toed the welcome mat, her eyes peeking out. The girl had strange eyes. A very light brown, with an odd tinge. _Amber, _she'd later learn. They glittered. She was well-proportioned. Claire crossed her arms over the flat breast pocket over her overalls.

The other girl was dressed in shorts and a Hollister t-shirt. Claire hadn't been in the store. She'd wanted too, but she always looked out of place just walking up the steps and always chickened out at the last second. She didn't fit in with beaches and the perfume and pop songs and cool clothes.

Claire felt a tugging sensation on one of her blond braids. She looked up to see the girl lightly pulling on one of them.

"Your hair," she said clearly. "It's so yellow."

* * *

"Why hasn't anyone come yet?" asks Derrick. He's been whining for the last half-an-hour. Claire has considered smacking him on multiple occasions. She settles for just ignoring him. "Don't they realize the elevator's shit?"

"Can you please stop talking?" Claire requests loudly and bangs her head against the elevator wall. She turns to the side to look at him. "I'm saying my Hail Marys, but it's hard to keep track with a five-year-old around."

Derrick laughs with his mouth closed. "Funny," he says, his voice losing it's composure. "What if we actually die, huh? It's not going to be that fucking entertaining after that."

"I was hoping it'd be quite black, actually," Claire replies dryly.

Derrick stares at her. "I hope that was a joke."

_Nope_.

"You're fucked up," Derrick says. He starts pacing around again.

"Can you stop?" Claire says. "It's annoying."

"If I'm going to fucking die, I'll do whatever the fuck I want."

She's skeptical. "You want to die pacing?"

Derrick stops. "Fair point." He sits down across from Claire, spreads his legs out. Claire counts the brass buttons on the elevator panel. There are thirteen floors, but the numbers skip over thirteen. Why do they do that? Why do they think the numbers matter? There are still thirteen floors. You can mask the bad luck, but that doesn't make it go away.

"You look _really _familiar." Derrick runs a hand through his hair. It is sweaty and has probably never gone this long without being combed. "Like, really. Extremely."

"I told you," she says. "Ninth grade biology."

"That can't be it."

"It is."

"It _can't be." _

Claire sighs. He's one of those people who just can't sit in silence. "You fucked my sister."

His eyes go wide. "Wait, you're Massie Block's sister?"

The color gets sucked out of the world. Claire feels heavy and tired. It's the first time she's ever felt anything in a long time. "Not anymore."

* * *

-eleven years old-

* * *

"Derrick, your sister has a dance practice in a half-an-hour," Mrs. Harrington called from the other end of the playground. "We have to go. Derrick? Derrick!"

"Derrick, your Mom's calling you," Kemp Hurley pointed out. They were kicking a bouncy rubber ball off the side of the fifth grade wing.

"I know," Derrick said. "If you pretend you can't hear her, she'll go away." Not necessarily true, but Mrs. Harrington would be caught dead walking through the jungle gym and muddy grass, even to get her son to do what she wanted. Her image always came first, not what her kids wanted. It wasn't fair to Sammi, but Derrick just wanted some time with his friend. He didn't get that a lot.

Sometimes he would plan something with Cam or Josh or Kemp or Chris, but his mother had these weird mood swings. Some days she'd spend all day crying and forbidding both of her kids to do anything. Or she'd yell and scream and smash things. Or she'd sleep. All day. Whenever one of these days happened, Derrick would always catch himself staring out a window, hoping that somehow his dad would know what was happening and would fly home, like Superman and save both of them.

But all that happened when his father did come home was that he'd swear, kick off his shoes and run upstairs to the master bedroom and there would be awful fighting. When they got older, Sammi had a better idea of what was happening than Derrick. She'd take Derrick into the kitchen, the room farthest away from the master bedroom and make him an ice-cream sundae and he always felt a little better.

"You're going to get in trouble," Kemp said. "If you don't go over there. I would get in trouble." He kicked the red ball and bounced off the wall with a thwack.

"My mom's not like yours." Derrick shrugged. Kemp's kick sent the ball back a little to the left of him. He jogged to it and kicked it.

Kemp thought for a moment. "Cool."

"Hey."

They both turned when they heard Kristen Gregory's voice. She was on their kickball team, the Orange Crush. It was something they had made up as a way to pass time during lunch. Behind Kristen was a girl.

"Who's that?" Kemp pointed at her.

The other girl sniffed. "It's rude to point." She had strange eyes, Derrick decided. A mix of yellow and brown.

"This is Massie," Kristen said. "She's new. So can we play with you?"

Kemp shrugged. "I guess." He turned to Derrick. "Derrick? Can they play?"

"Derrick?" Kristen asked, crossing her arms. "Derrriickk."

"Wha? Oh, uh, sure." Derrick blushed and looked away. Kemp explained the rules to the two girls. Derrick couldn't help looking at the other girl. That moment, he realized he was in love with her.

* * *

Claire gets tired of waiting for death. Her stomach growls. It was always her plan to be in control of her death and to make sure it's something painless, with an eerie beauty. Now she's hungry, tired and stuck with one of the many people who made her who she is today.

"Do you have any food?" She makes a point not to look at him. She hates this. Being weak. Having to ask for something. Relying on someone.

Derrick fishes around in his pockets. He comes up with a granola bar. He hands it out to her without question.

Claire makes a face.

"What?" Derrick says. "Not good enough for you?"

"I'm allergic to nuts, you fucker," Claire says.

"It's a _granola_ bar," Derrick says, shaking it. "It doesn't have nuts, dumbass."

"Oh really?" Claire grabs the bar and flips it over, bending the plastic of the label. "Look right there, under the ingredients."

Derrick squints. " 'Warning: Made in a factory which makes products with peanuts. May contain traces of peanuts or other tree nuts'. Oh."

"Who's the dumbass now?" crows Claire, sitting back and with a wicked grin.

Derrick scowls. "You still are. This is all the food I have. I wouldn't be so happy if I realized I was going to starve to death."

Claire rolls her eyes and flips him off.

"What is your deal?" he explodes. "Seriously! You are such a bitch."

"Hey." Her voice is rolling thunder. Derrick stops. The world seems to darken. "Don't you dare call me names. You don't fucking know me."

"Sorry." He doesn't mention how she says much worse things to him.

Claire feels bad. Derrick's a mess. His suit is wrinkled, his eyes lost their confidence and his hair has completely flattened. It wouldn't kill her to talk to him. Not comfort him, just say a couple of words. Derrick played a part in her destruction, but not a big one. _No_, a voice in her head yells, _no. That bastard doesn't deserve anything from you. None of them do. _But I feel guilty, Claire thinks. _You don't feel anything._

For the first time in her life, Claire ignores the other voice. She doesn't know why she does, exactly, but she just does. "If you could eat anything in the world right now, what would it be?" A couple of years ago, when Claire was still using her fake ID, she had been a kindergarten teacher. As usual, it didn't last long. Her happiness never does and her unhappiness destroys everything.

Derrick leans against the elevator wall and laughs. "An ice scream sundae. I don't know why."

Claire makes a face. "That's dumb."

They're quiet again.


End file.
